


Right Man, Wrong Time

by Writer_Geekgirl



Series: Castiel and Dean: An AU Love Story [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Annoyed Sam Winchester, Destiel Promptober, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 11:40:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16218269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writer_Geekgirl/pseuds/Writer_Geekgirl
Summary: In the ongoing series in which Sam and Dean visit alternate realities, Dean meets Lord Castiel at the British Museum during the Victorian era. Sparks fly and Sam gets exceedingly frustrated with his brother.This work is part of the Destiel Promptober in which there is a different AU theme for each day in October. The AU for the day is Victorian Era.





	Right Man, Wrong Time

Dean ignored Sam's exasperated sigh. "We need to talk about this, Dean."

"No, we don't," Dean growled.

"There's a reason we are getting yanked from reality to reality to see alternate versions of Castiel."

"Someone or something is just screwing with us and when I figure out what or who it is, I'm going to gank their sorry ass." Dean dodged, barely missing being hit by a horse carriage as they turned a corner. There were no cars, only pedestrians and horses on the road. The city vaguely smelled of refuse.

Sam stopped as he stared at the building in front of them. "Dean, I know where we are."

Dean stared at the large building with Grecian columns in front of it. "Where, Sammy?"

"London, that's the British Museum."

"So, we're back in time and in England? Great. And these clothes, who wears this many clothes?" Dean gestured to his heavy woolen, brown trench coat over a suit, with a newsboy cap on top. Sam was dressed similarly but wearing a derby.

A female voice with an elegant English accent said from behind them, "Are you the American Men of Letters, the Winchesters?"

Dean turned around to look at the speaker, and his jaw dropped, "Meg?"

"Americans are quite too familiar. My name is Meg Shurley. I'm his Lordship's assistant.” Dean shot a 'what the hell' look at Sam.

"Yes," Sam replied. "How can we help you?"

"His Lordship had heard of your arrival in London. He heard tales that you were familiar with Enochian sigils and texts. He was wondering if you would be so willing to accompany me to his office, so he may ask you a few questions. He has been working on deciphering the Enochian Ellesmere manuscript."

Dean tensed up at the mention of Enochian. Enochian meant angels, angels meant trouble. Life as a perfect vessel made one paranoid when around unfamiliar angels. Before Dean could answer, Sam said, "Yes, thank you, Miss Shurley. We would like to help such an esteemed colleague."

Dean shot Sam a sour look. He muttered the word Christo and was relieved when Meg showed no reaction. Meg led them up the stairs of the British Museum and through the Reading Room. Sam looked around in amazement at the number of bookcases. It was like a nerd Christmas. She opened a small doorway off to one side and into an office. 

Dean muttered, "Figures," when he realized it was Castiel behind the desk. When Castiel stood to greet them, Dean was unprepared for how Castiel was dressed in a deep red suit jacket, a gold waistcoat, and black pants with pinstripes. A chain for a pocket watch led from his buttons to his waistcoat pocket. Dean was speechless and stared at Castiel. 

Castiel said, "Splendid." Dean marveled at how Castiel sounded with his deep voice and a British accent. Castiel continued, "I am happy Meg was able to locate you. The Winchesters come from a long line of Men of Letters, and I have heard nothing but good things about you. Which of you is Dean and which is Sam."

"I’m Sam. And he's Dean." Sam smiled and offered his hand to Castiel. Castiel hesitated before taking Sam's hand and shaking it.

"Yes, please call me Castiel." Castiel offered his hand to Dean who stared at it dumbly before reaching out to shake it. "I'm from the Men of Letters, London Chapterhouse." Castiel turned to Meg and said, "Meg, please bring the manuscript." 

Meg rolled her eyes, "Why didn't you have it in here already?" She walked out of the room. Castiel appeared embarrassed by her behavior. He shifted uncomfortably as he watched Meg leave.

"Please forgive her. She burnt down the finishing school when we tried to send her to one." Castiel let out a long-suffering sigh. "She's unorthodox, but she's family."

Sam cleared his throat and asked, "So, you want us to read some Enochian sigils or texts?"

Castiel replied charmingly, "Well, right now, only a handful of sigils. Later, if you would be so kind as to be my guest for a weekend, I would appreciate your help with the text. The country place is very lovely this time of year. I'm sure you would find it enjoyable."

Meg reappeared carrying a manuscript that she unrolled gently.

The first sigil on the page was obviously the angel banishing sigil. Sam began, "That one there…"

Dean interrupted, "Is one you never want to cast. It could summon an angel and in a non-vessel form, it will burn your eyes and explode your ears. You don't want to mess with that." Dean was not going to help the British Men of Letters get their hands on a banishing spell that they might someday use on Castiel in this or any other universe. "There's also a small mistake on the manuscript." He took the pen out of the inkwell on Castiel's desk, "May I?" 

Castiel nodded and Dean drew a line on the sigil, editing it to make it ineffective.

Sam continued, "This one here is a protection ward. It protects you from lower-level angels, but not from a Seraph or higher. You do know about angel levels?"

Meg rolled her eyes, "He's the leading Enochian scholar in Europe. Does he know angel levels?" Meg snorted.

Castiel chastised her, "Meg."

"There are five different variations on this sigil." Dean got bored as Sam droned on about protection sigils. He wasn't sure he wanted to help the British Men of Letters even if it was Castiel asking for the help. No good ever came from working with those dicks. Ketch would always be a thorn in his side. He watched the wall quietly sitting in the chair for a moment, but then looked at Castiel. Sam was leaning over the desk talking, while Castiel took notes. Dean watched Castiel's well-manicured hands as dipped the pen in the ink and wrote, looking up at Sam, and occasionally biting his lip in concentration. Dean licked his lips and became mesmerized by the elegant movements of Castiel's long, lean fingers. Those hands had pummeled him into submission a few times and had also healed him more times than he could count, but he never noticed how beautiful they were.

Castiel caught Dean staring at him and their eyes met. The world stopped as they peered intently into each other's eyes. Sam stopped talking. He knew once the two of them looked at each other like that, neither would hear him. Castiel shook his head and then looked back at Sam. When Sam had finished helping Castiel with the manuscript, Sam asked about the Harley Enochian text on angel physiology, apparently very excited at the chance to see it. Dean inwardly rolled his eyes. Sam was geeking out on Enochian stuff. 

When Meg offered to show it to Sam, the two left and Dean found himself alone with Castiel.

Castiel stood up and walked over to Dean. "If I talk to you about something, do you promise not to tell another soul?"

Dean stood up and said, "Um, sure, Cas."

"Were you… A few minutes ago… When you looked at me…" Castiel kept stumbling over his words, unable to get the thought out coherently. 

"Not your imagination, Cas," Dean said and looked away.

"Can I kiss you?"

Dean's mind reeled. He had had more than one risqué dream about Castiel lately. He never wanted to try anything with his Castiel, because he was afraid of screwing up their entire friendship, relationship, whatever the hell it was between them. He didn't even know if he'd like kissing him. Maybe, it would be awkward and horrible in reality. 

Castiel stepped back after a moment, "Many apologies for asking such an untoward question. I understand if you would like to leave now."

"No, I just needed a minute." Dean did a few more seconds of mental gyrations before he pulled Castiel close and kissed him. Dean decided that he had nothing to lose by kissing this Castiel, and it might help resolve some of his internal insecurities that always halted him from pursuing things in his reality.

Castiel kissed him passionately, pushing Dean against the wall. Dean couldn't think, overwhelmed by all the sudden sensations. For a moment, he forgot where he was and lost himself in Castiel. Castiel slotted his leg between Dean's, and he could feel the extent of Castiel's arousal.

Castiel started pulling Dean's shirt tails from his pants to slide a hand against his stomach. Castiel groaned, "Oh, my God." Dean froze because the accent was all wrong. His mind suddenly snapped back to coherency. 

He pushed Castiel gently away, panting, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Castiel looked at him confused but paced to the other end of the room, taking several deep breaths. "Did I read things wrong?" he asked quietly.

Dean responded, "No, it's me. There's someone else. I shouldn't have led you on like that. I... You… It's complicated."

Castiel quirked up one corner of his mouth in a small smile, "Everything about my life is complicated."

Dean straightened up shirt and looked awkwardly at Castiel, who had resumed his position behind the desk. Dean said, "Cas, if things were different, I would have very much wanted to continue that. More than you know." Dean walked over and put his hand on Castiel's shoulder, "Thank you. I'm sorry if I hurt you, Cas. Goodbye."

Castiel said quietly while he walked out, "That someone else is a very lucky person."

Dean returned to the Reading Room, where Sam was sitting at a table peering over a manuscript. Meg sat next to him, looking like she rather be any other single place in the world. Sam looked up at Dean, "Dean, now, get this…"

The room suddenly tilted, and Dean grabbed onto the table to keep from falling. When he opened his eyes, he was standing at the table in his hotel room, while Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed. 

Sam growled, "Son of a bitch. I hate this, Dean. I hate this. I was right on the edge of figuring something out and then I get pulled back here. Do I get pulled back when I utterly bored in other realities? No. I keep watching you falling in love with iterations of Cas and what do I get out of it besides headaches? Nothing. Just tell him you love him for fuck's sake and leave me out of this melodramatic shit storm of a soap opera. Maybe this reality-hopping crap will stop." He shot Dean a bitchy look.

Dean said dryly, "Tell me how you really feel, Sam."

"Over ten fucking years, I've had to fucking watch you and Cas fucking circle around each other. I had bets. I had bets with Bobby, I had bets with Charlie, I had bets with Kevin, I had bets with Ellen, I even had a bet with Gabriel. No, they all DIED before you could get around to being with Cas." Sam slammed out of the room, walking past a befuddled Castiel who had just arrived at the door.

"Dean, what's wrong with Sam?" Castiel asked concerned.

"I think I broke him, Cas." Dean walked over to Castiel, grabbed the lapels of his trench coat, and started to pull him close. Castiel stared at him with wide eyes as their faces grew closer until his phone suddenly rang.

Castiel said breathlessly, "I have to get that. It's Claire's ringtone, and she's on a hunt alone."

Dean let go of him and walked across the room. He saw Castiel's face grow frantic as he talked to Claire. When he hung up, he said, "We have to go help her, Dean."

Dean sighed, "I'll go find where Sam stormed off to. You pack up the hotel room." Dean had finally made up his mind, but the universes were conspiring against him. Wasn't that always the way?


End file.
